


To Leave the Shadow Behind

by orphan_account



Series: Of Alliances and other relationships [1]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Asexual!Hawkins, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gonna find a beta soon, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Not Beta Read, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22197127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: For Lyrou - Hawkins loses his deck and Drake is there to save the day.
Relationships: Basil Hawkins/X Drake
Series: Of Alliances and other relationships [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1597846
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	To Leave the Shadow Behind

Hawkins x Drake for Lyrou

*the Shadow is a card connected to your inner emotions and fears.

They’ve looked for Hawkins' tarots everywhere: on Hawkins’ ship, on Drake’s – why on hell they’ve considered Drake’s ship, he doesn’t dare to explain it aloud, not in front of everyone at least.

Despite the accurate research, those purplish cards are nowhere to be found – so it seems that Drake’s crew is giving up, and they’re not helping anymore; why would they waste the little spare time they have looking for some useless cards?

Their captain doesn’t seem to be of the same opinion, though.

Drake decides to follow Faust on Hawkins’ ship, again, saying that he must keep an eye on him - babysitting him, to say the least. But it’s way worse than what Drake’s crew can imagine – it’s not only a matter of some stupid cards that are missing, it’s way more complicated than this! Drakes is well aware of what all of this implies; His crew can’t imagine just how important are those tarots for the other captain.

Faust takes him into Hawkins’ cabin, and the man is in his bathroom, chocking on his coughs while two subordinates are trying to contain his hair into a high tail. But the situation is worse than what they could think already: Hawkins is staring at something in the mirror above the sink, transfixed. 

“Get out,” Drake’s voice startles all of them, but he doesn’t seem to notice neither to care about his tone, and approaches the bathroom, not scared as the first time something like that has happened, but worried enough to get pale. “I got this,” he says, and despite his cold sweat, Faust seems to believe him because he raises his paw and gestured to his comrades to follow him outside, leaving the captains on their own.

They can trust Drake – it’s not the first time a card of Hawkins’ set gets lost. Except that, not, it’s not one card, but the whole deck!

Drake is not sure how all of this has happened: Hawkins always takes his beloved and precious tarots with him. Everywhere. Even in the bathtub! (They seem to be even more important than the current relationship between the two of them, but Drake is not ready to question it so openly.)

The captain notices that the bathtub is filled with hot water, judging from all the steam coming from it, and consider the idea of using it later.

Drake leads Hawkins away from the mirror, helping him to seat on the floor, together, just how Hawkins likes to do when he is in the middle of a crisis. During those months of alliance (and something more) Drake has learned many things about the other man: some of his habits (bad ones and good ones), some of his definitions of kink (don’t question how all of that started because he wouldn’t reply) and, very useful at that very moment, how to calm him down during nightmare, crisis and everything that involves loss of control.

Drake takes a deep breath, placing his hand at the back of Hawkins' neck and starts drawing circles with his thumb, right at the base of the man’s nape. That’s one of the things that relaxes the other captain the most.

“Breath, blondie, breath!”

But Hawkins doesn’t get it – he’s not listening. Drake can call him how he wants, using the nicknames he prefers, but Hawkins won’t talk back, not yet. He’s not there with him yet, but he seems to be improving. Matter of fact, the coughs stop, slowly, to the point that the blond man is no longer gasping for air. He’s trying to focus on Drake’s thumb working on his neck, on his weak spot, but he’s yet far away from talking and moving either; his eyes are lost, staring at something that Drake can not see himself – this is the shit that scares him the most about that man.

Sometimes, it happens that Hawkins starts walking towards something Drake can’t quite focus on, eyes blanc and mind completely empty; other times, he interrupts a conversation because that something is there, and needs all of Hawkins’ attention. At more rare occasions, Hawkins runs away from it, and even asks for Drake help – one day, the very first day Drake has seen Hawkins frightened by that something, their alliance transformed into something else.

And at that time too, a single card from Hawkins’ deck went missing.

Now, Hawkins is not trying to escape, forcing himself out of the bathroom, but Drake has the feeling that if he could, he would do as much – whatever he is seeing, it’s not friendly.

And this time, all the deck is missing.

Even though Hawkins is not in his best shape, he’s trying to stay there, in that bathroom that looks so cramped now that his mind is spacing out from one thing to another. He doesn’t want to see that figure lingering in front of them, but he can’t run away from it. Not this time and not without his deck.

He can’t.

He has no chance to escape.

_**You should never leave a single card behind, my dear.** _

_**Each card it’s here to protect you.** _

_**You can’t allow the Shadow to look at you.** _

The Shadow is stretching its hand towards him, slowly.

_**If you lose one of them, it won’t try to reach you yet.** _

_**If you lose all of them, my dear, I’ll pray for your soul to find solace** _

_**wherever you’ll go.** _

But it stops.

The foggy fingers never touch him.

It stops because Drake changes his approach and pulls Hawkins into his lap, without any effort, as if he weights nothing like a useless doll. He hugs Hawkins from behind, wrapping his arms around him as a shield, as if he’s acknowledging the presence of what Hawkins is afraid of right now through the man’s eyes and tries to protect him how he can.

Drake rests his head at the top of Hawkins’, ruffling his hair moving his chin back and forth as he tightens his grip around the blonde’s body. For a brief moment, Hawkins’ eyes shift from the odd figure to the other man’s hands caressing his waist who is reassuring him with his presence – big, strong arms keeping him safe and sound against Drake.

The Shadow is not happy about it – it doesn’t like Hawkins indifference.

_**Oh. You can find someone who can fight it back.** _

_**For you.** _

_**With you.** _

_**Only then, you can turn your back at it.** _

“We can stay here, even though my ass is freezing right now. What do you want to do?”

Drake’s not sure why he’s asking for Hawkins consent knowing that he won’t respond in any possible way, but that’s better than simply staring at the wall at the other side of the room, there, where Hawkins is looking right now, silently. He doesn’t seem to notice that the blonde is now looking at his arms, and not at what is in front of them, menacing, deforming as it tries to get Hawkins attention back.

He doesn’t notice it until Hawkins speaks again, voice reduced to a whisper, “bathtub,” he says, lifting his head to see Drake’s face – that’s better than staring at an ugly Shadow.

Drake blinks and looks down just to be sure that he’s not hallucinating – Hawkins reaches for his face, brushing Drake’s stubble to judge it, “and shave you.”

“And shave me,” Drakes repeats, affording a smile as the color comes back to his face. It’d be useless to ask Hawkins how’s feeling and what’s there with them: he wouldn’t give any explanation – he’d turn him down saying that it’s nothing Drake can comprehend. And he accepts it: occult has never been Drake’s piece of cake eventually. Though, a fresh Hawkins right after a crisis and a razor don’t seem to get along with Drake's idea of bath now – he’s sure as hell that he has no option, though.

Hawkins stands up, taking Drake’s hand with his own – Drake doesn’t need to do anything, today. Hawkins seems to be in the right mood to spoil him a little, strangely, and who is he to disagree? It’s such a rare opportunity that he must oblige (hoping to convince him to not use the razor on him while his fresh from an almost-breakdown).

 _Let the Shadow watch,_ the blonde man thinks while he’s letting his hands wandering onto Drake’s body, turning his back to his shadow. Drake smells of sweat and something else – it’s spicy, almost sweet but yet so delicate, “you used it,” he says. Finally, a man who puts Hawkins’ gifts into good use. It’s almost cute, he considers, leaving flat kisses along Drake’s neck as he starts undressing the other captain – not that there is much to take care about.

The cape falls on the floor, followed by the hat – yet, Hawkins is still kissing him without any haste, pressing their chests together, placing chaste kisses on Drake’s lips as the mask follows the cape. Later, it’s Drake’s turn, but he’s never been a patient man when it comes to those things, and he just wants to take Hawkins in the bathtub with him – when only their trousers are left in the way, they take care of it on their own, and Hawkins parts from him to give him a better look, nodding, fully content by the view.

When he reaches out with grabby hands towards Drake, the latter snorts, “god, you’re such a spoiled prince,” even saying so, the captain indulges in that request, and lifts Hawkins from the ground, carrying him into the bathtub with him. The water’s not as hot as before but it can work too.

The blonde rests at the top of Drake for a while, just chilling and kissing the broad chest, eyes half-lidded, and hands hidden under the surface, sliding from Drake’s abs to his lower belly, and then back again at the top. Meanwhile, Drake takes his time with Hawkins hair, moving his fingers between each lock, disentangling each knot with such care that it’s almost endearing and strange, in a certain way. Drake is not the type of man who wastes his time with such a thing, Hawkins knows it for sure.

It’d be so easy for him to take something more from Hawkins in that state. Water always makes Devil Fruit users a little weaker than normal, but Drake would be strong enough to take advantage of his lover right there right now, and Hawkins wouldn’t even complain about it. He’s used to Drake’s rudeness and his needs – many times, Drakes walks into his cabin demanding and ordering him around, acting like the weak man he is, a victim of his own horniness like any other weak man would be. But Hawkins never refuses, even though he doesn’t understand nor share that human need. He seconds the other captain because it’s still a chance to have a contact with the other – something different from the usual and more intimate. And as much as an orgasm means nothing to Hawkins, he’s pleased by Drake’s happiness when they can have some alone time like that. Alliances are a give & take, aren’t they?

But now, Drake is not asking for anything more: he lets Hawkins do what he wants without talking, without expecting any less from him. He can be a pole in the ass at times, but Hawkins is also the biggest sap Drake has ever met. And he likes it. Way too much.

But oh, if Drake doesn’t want to kill him right there when the bastard dares to sit right on his lap!

Drake frowns – it’s taking him all his self-control to not get an erection, and Hawkins has the gut to display his body like that, sat on his lap (on his dick), wet hair stuck to his slim figure and pink nipples perking up like little, delicious cherries. He wants to eat him alive.

“I have to shave you,” he says, moving just enough that Drake can feel his balls shifting against his dick causing him to shiver despite being stuck in hot water.

Things don’t improve: after he’s done collecting what he needs, Hawkins leans closer, shifting again onto his body and his ass is right there where it shouldn’t be.

Despite the premises, though, when he starts working on Drake’s stubble, his hand is firm and doesn’t shake – meticulously, he proceeds to inspect the squared jaw, the scarred chin and the overall of the other captain’s face, and shaves.

“You don’t have to hold back,” he says, feeling the almost hard-on of Drake poking at him. “You’re better happy than pent up,” and his partner’s erection twitches – on the contrary, Hawkins’ is limp, as always.

“You’re not a prostitute,” Drake snarls, using the moment in which Hawkins is away from his face to enclose his tiny waist between his hands, massaging it. “I want to respect you,” he explains, puffing his chest out, drops dripping all over it and the big tattoo.

Hawkins lifts an eyebrow, but probably that’s because he is still examining his face, “do you really think I’d let you touch me if I don’t want you too?”

“Then, why…” why doesn’t he get excited when they’re having sex?

“I have no sexual drive – I like you better when you’re happier, as I said– and every time I question my tarots about it, they tell me it won’t hurt me,” oh, yeah, of course… It’s because of those fucking cards…

“Why are you sulking now?” Is It the hint of a smile or is Drake dreaming it?

“I’m not,” he replays, pouting. Defeated by some fucking tarots, good job, Drake – you sure are a real warrior of the sea.

Hawkins part is lips to talk back, but someone knocks at the door of his room, “good news,” the man says, opening the door of the room to leave something, something like a deck, on the bed. He doesn’t flinch when he peeks the two men in the bathtub together, “we found them,” but blushes, rushing outside and closes the door behind him.

Okay, yes, now Hawkins is smiling, definitely, but Drake has this strange, weird desire to burn every single card in front of Hawkins himself… But those tarots are part of Hawkins’ persona, he could never be able to do something so terrible to him.

“You’re still pouting,” said man resumed, setting the razor aside and cupping Drake’s cheeks with both hands.

“Are you sure you want me?”

Hawkins’ smile widens, but before answering his question, he kisses his forehead with a loud smack – of course, he is happy, they just found his beloved cards, “you’re such a big baby.”

Drake frowns deepen, “you sure you don’t want to ask your tarots?”

And Hawkins completely lost it falling back in the water between Drake’s leg, laughing and covering his mouth with his thin hands, fingers pressed against his nose.

Yeah, Drake is such a big baby…

Artwork by me:

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know --- you can find me here if you want to shout at me @Cam3ulia on twitter.  
> Feel free to dm me there if you want me to write about anything.


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